Scarlet spilled from Li Meirong's hand in a steady stream. The blood streaked through the air, devoured by the parasol's endless thirst.

Li Meirong snickered quietly, completely unperturbed by the parasol's consumption of her blood. She turned slightly, tossing Liu Jiayu a meaningful look.

"You will regret this," she said. Her voice was dark, foreboding.

"What do you mean by that, ah?" Liu Jiayu spluttered through her shredded cheek and aching tongue. Her grip on the Bloodsucking Parasol tightened.

She was met with pointed silence.

The Bloodsucking Parasol kept consuming Li Meirong's blood, unceasing, yet she showed no sign of weakness.

The Armament Division's succeeding disciple was not one to scare easily, but at that moment, a choking fear began to consume her. Li Meirong's laughter was incredibly ominous, her dark aura almost immobilizing in its intensity.

Liu Jiayu could not understand it. Had she not gained the upper hand in combat? Why, then, was she so afraid, when it was the loathsome girl in front of her whom should be shriveling into naught but skin and bones at any moment?

Yet, as the battle progressed, no harm came to Li Meirong.

"What's going on…?" whispered Liu Jiayu, her voice quavering.

Li Meirong lifted her hands and gave an exaggerated shrug.

Just as Liu Jiayu was about to respond, the Bloodsucking Parasol began to spasm violently in her grip.

The parasol shook, as if it had consumed too much and could no longer continue.

The entire audience looked on in avid fascination.

"The Bloodsucking Parasol does not harm her… how can it be?" The onlookers began to mumble amongst themselves.

"What kind of monster are you?" Liu Jiayu voiced the question everyone else was thinking but dared not ask. Dread blanched her face pure white as she locked eyes with Li Meirong.

At that moment, Li Meirong's dark, fathomless pupils kindled terrifying thoughts. To Liu Jiayu, she became the stuff of nightmares.

Li Meirong ignored the question, narrowing her eyes in a cold yet lazy manner.

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, while it is still attached."

Liu Jiayu involuntarily gulped back the additional questions lingering on her tongue. The parasol's handle began to heat up, searing her fingers.

Despite the constant pain, Liu Jiayu held back her tears. She refused to cry any more. Even after taking so much damage, pride stopped her from showing any further signs of weakness.

The only visible trace of struggle was the sweat dripping down her forehead.

Liu Jiayu gnashed her teeth as she silently stared Li Meirong down. 'If I bow before her, my junior, then I will lose all face! She is at the Foundation Building stage at most… not only will I lose face, I will lose my position as succeeding disciple!'

Liu Jiayu would rather die than admit defeat. She had suffered enough humiliation already.

The parasol's unusual spasms began to sting Liu Jiayu's palm, yet she kept a persistent grip on the blistering handle, unwilling to let go. Unwilling to concede.